


Embracing New Traditions

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Coffee, Coffee Shops, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Mistletoe, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 14:56:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick just wanted a wingman for a little experiment, but Blaine got more than he bargained for. An alternate universe short depicting Kurt and Blaine's first meeting. Partially inspired by <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6iNxHxwT-b4">this video</a>. <b><a href="http://ourlivesareweird.tumblr.com/post/38331853737/fic-embracing-new-traditions">Reblog on Tumblr!</a></b></p>
            </blockquote>





	Embracing New Traditions

“Blaine, I have discovered the _perfect_ way to pick up girls.”

It’s the last day of school before winter break and Blaine finds himself completely buried in textbooks, notes, and post-its every color of the rainbow as he diligently works on his last take-home exam of the term. With the majority of his social circle overlapping with the members of the Warblers, being given space to breathe and focus on class isn’t usually an issue — any Warbler worth his salt knows that being part of the team means a full schedule and a sharp learning curve as far as time management is concerned, and being their usual leading man means that Blaine doesn’t have quite as much time to kick back as the rest of them.

“Nick, you _do_ realize that I have literally no interest in learning that particular skill, right?”

There’s always the exception, of course.

“You’ve been slaving over that exam for the past ten hours; I’m doing you a favor and making sure you don’t develop back problems.”

Feeling a pair of heavy hands clapping down on his shoulders, Blaine lets out one last huff of protest before stretching out in his chair, feeling his back crack a couple of times and groaning in tired approval. With barely a second’s pause, he feels himself being tugged to his feet and blearily rubs at his eyes as his roommate pivots him across the common space — the glare of Nick’s laptop screen makes Blaine wince.

“Only you would find a way to turn hitting on women into something that’s supposedly for my benefit,” Blaine grouses, but his tone lightens with a touch of curiosity.

“It’s a win-win situation, Blaine. Look, now you have the opportunity to whine at me all you like, which I know you’ve been wanting to do for days,” Nick points out, earning a sharp whap on his arm. “ _Ow_ , hey! See, this is the side of you I wish everyone knew about, because no one ever believes me when I say that you make a _terrible_ roommate.”

Offering a pointed look, Blaine glances down at the laptop again. _Mistletoe Kissing Prank,_ the page reads, and Blaine only catches a fleeting glimpse of Nick’s grin before the video starts to play. It’s less than five minutes of a young man and woman trying to trick fellow students and passerby into sharing quick kisses under conveniently placed mistletoe.

“You have to admit, it’s cute,” says Nick once the video’s finished.

“I… thought the old ladies were cute,” Blaine shrugs.

“Like, you wouldn’t expect for something like that to work, but that dude came out with over a dozen kisses to show for it and only got slapped _once_.” Nick crosses his arms over his chest with an appraising look.

“And the old, presumably married couple. They were nice too,” offers Blaine.

“Aw, come on. Have you no holiday cheer?”

With a slight wince, Blaine glances up to meet Nick’s gaze, seating himself carefully on Nick’s desk and crossing his arms loosely in front of his waist. “Well, I think it’s a very quick way of spreading a cold or flu, if nothing else, and it’s a little creepy when you prefaced all of this with wanting to pick up girls,” he admits, wrinkling his nose. “But beyond that, did you notice that the guy only ever tried to stop girls for the questionnaire? And vice versa?”

Nick grimaces. “…right.”

“Were you planning on pulling this stunt at Crawford Country Day?”

Eyes wide, Nick shakes his head minutely. “No, no. I was thinking more along the lines of the Lima Bean. I think my name’s already gone around Crawford one too many times for this to be received well.”

Snorting lightly, Blaine raises a hand, shaking his index finger. “You _sneaky_ man,” he chides, and immediately he sees Nick relax, any tension cleared between the both of them. “You _sneaky_ man!”

Nick punches Blaine’s shoulder playfully, then points in the direction of the suite’s entrance. “So are we doing this? You never know, we might find you a cute guy…”

“Yeah, I’m not getting my hopes up,” says Blaine, getting up and reaching for his coat and scarf. “But fine. I’ll play wingman if you don’t whine when you end up being everyone’s consolation prize.”

“ _Hey_.”

* * *

As it turns out, the plan is less successful than Nick hoped. Between the stressed out holiday shoppers and students seeking out a relatively quiet place to study, their questionnaire ends up earning more ire than laughs — Blaine wouldn’t be surprised if they end up kicked out of the shop within the hour, although he’s done his best to hold out by regularly ordering coffees for the both of them. After sipping at his third latte, he’s starting to wonder if that decision will be something he starts to regret, too.

Out of nowhere, Blaine feels an elbow poking into his side.

Spluttering and carefully holding his coffee out to prevent spilling all over himself, Blaine frowns in Nick’s direction, shaking his head slightly in demand of an explanation.

“Sorry, sorry,” Nick hisses, before nodding at a group of several students filing into the coffee shop. “Just, look, I think that’s the group we’re up against for Sectionals.”

“What, the McKinley High New Directions?” asks Blaine, glancing over as Nick nods. At a glance, they don’t look like a very coordinated set, immediately breaking off into twos and thirds, some groups louder than others — but from what research the Warblers have done, Blaine knows not to underestimate them. With a varied group comes a certain amount of unpredictability.

Truth be told, he’s glad for the challenge.

“How do you know that it’s them?” Blaine sips at his coffee, doing his best to keep his expression neutral and innocuous. “Do you really think they’d make the long drive over just to spy on us?”

He catches sight of a bright flush spreading over Nick’s face. _Oh_. Well, that explains a great deal.

“I, uh, used to follow Rachel Berry’s MySpace page,” confesses Nick, shaking his head. “Look, she did this Britney cover once, it was—”

“Okay, okay,” laughs Blaine, nudging Nick with his elbow. “I believe you, and my curiosity’s more than satisfied. Guess that means they’re taking this competition pretty seriously.”

Grinning broadly, Nick raises a brow. “They’d have to if they want to have any hope of beating us.”

“Fair.”

* * *

Thirty minutes later, it’s pretty clear that neither group of students is fooling the other. Blaine would like to think that he carries himself with a little more grace than the McKinley students, most of whom are huddled close around one of the larger tables in the shop, whispering franticly with more than the occasional glance in Blaine and Nick’s direction. (Then again, with the way Nick keeps poking him in the side, Blaine’s not sure how discreet the pair of them have managed to be. Probably not very.)

Either way, there isn’t much to be learned about the ragtag team as they sit there munching on pastries and sipping at their drinks — it isn’t like any of them have burst spontaneously into song.

The only thing is, there’s this cute guy in their group, and Blaine can’t quite manage to tear his gaze away. It’s the hair that draws his attention first, a pretty shade of brown and strands perfectly coiffed in a way Blaine knows he’d never be capable of — some people have all the luck. But upon closer glance, it isn’t only the boy’s hair that has been paid close attention; his outfit is also extraordinarily well-coordinated, a light gray coat accented beautifully with a lavender scarf, possibly _cashmere_ , and Doc Martens that put the fashion choices of the rest of the group to absolute shame.

Of course, just when Blaine starts to stare, the boy glances his way.

He shouldn’t have looked. He was probably gaping, and now that guy probably thinks that Blaine’s either an idiot or a creep, and only one of those two things can be at all disproven on the stage.

Great.

“Hey, are you about ready to go?” Blaine asks, shaking his empty cup from side to side and arching a questioning brow in Nick’s direction. “As much fun as this has been, I still have an exam to get back to, and you’re not really getting any more bites for your questionnaire.”

Quickly shaking his head, Nick hurriedly whispers, “Speak for yourself, Blaine; I think Rachel Berry’s coming over. Oh god.” As an afterthought, he adds a hiss. “Be _cool_.”

Narrowing his eyes skeptically, Blaine tilts his cup one more time, searching for any last dregs of coffee before tossing it into the nearest trash can. By the time he looks up, it turns out that Nick wasn’t wrong after all — standing right in front of them are both the apparent star of New Directions and the very boy Blaine gazed at earlier, arm in arm. Seeing Rachel smile brightly enough for the four of them is enough impetus for Blaine to return the expression at once, but his wide grin does nothing to mask his confusion. Are they looking for a showdown? Declaring war? Looking for a riff-off?

(Nick’s really in no shape for a riff-off.)

“Hi there,” Rachel Berry chirps, still beaming. “I saw that the two of you were holding a Christmas survey, and I was wondering if you needed any more volunteers to take part. I know how hard it can be in our increasingly fast-paced society to encourage passerby to stop and help their peers. Sometimes it’s like everyone’s forgotten their holiday spirit.”

Emboldened, Nick takes half a step forward. “Yeah, actually, if you wouldn’t mind—”

Blaine almost laughs at the sudden, subtle glare from Rachel. “Actually, I’m Jewish,” she says, dropping a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “But my friend Kurt here, he celebrates Christmas every year with his dad.”

Blinking, it takes a few seconds for the message to sink in for Nick, who turns to face Blaine with a questioning tilt of his head.

Judging by the slight terror evident in Kurt’s (remarkably blue) eyes, the spotlight’s on Blaine.

“Um… I would love to ask you a few questions, if you wouldn’t mind?” Blaine offers, pulling out his clipboard. “I’m Blaine, by the way.”

“Kurt,” he breathes after a short pause.

“Nick,” chimes in Nick with a smile, gradually catching on.

Lips pressed tightly together, Rachel tilts her head. “And I’m Rachel. Nick, do you want to step to the side for a moment with me? I’d love to suggest a few questions about Hanukkah that I think would really help make your questionnaire a bit more well-rounded.”

Wrapping her arm tightly around Nick’s elbow, Rachel tugs him sharply away, leaving him helplessly stumbling after. Grinning sincerely, Blaine turns back to Kurt, whose eyes also seem to be shining a bit brighter than before.

“That friend of yours, she’s really something,” he remarks, nose wrinkling.

“Yeah,” he laughs, voice light, a cross between delicate and steady. “Yeah, she really is.”

“So… thanks for agreeing to do this, by the way,” Blaine grins, holding the clipboard close to his chest and clicking his pen with the opposite hand. “I just have a series of five quick questions, and feel free to pass on them if you like, they’re, um. They were Nick’s idea.”

“I think being his partner-in-crime implicates you a bit as well,” replies Kurt.

Blaine’s quickly learning that this, this might be _bad_.

“Fair enough,” he smiles, letting his gaze linger for a moment longer on Kurt’s lips, full and pink and looking very, very soft.

“Are you taken or single?”

Kurt bites briefly down on his lower lip, lashes fanning out in a slow blink before he nods. “Single.”

“Do you put up Christmas lights? With your dad?” Blaine asks, feeling his heart hammer against his chest.

“I do. An overabundance of lights, in fact.”

“Do you drink eggnog?”

Nose wrinkling at once, Kurt shakes his head. “No. No, I’m a spiced cider kind of guy.”

“Good choice,” murmurs Blaine, marking down Kurt’s answers on the sheet. “Do you leave out cookies for Santa?”

“If by Santa, you mean my dad, then yes.”

Pressing down on his own lower lip, Blaine hesitates slightly before the last question. He has another that he can ask, just in case — real or fake tree? — and the last thing that Blaine wants is to make Kurt in any way uncomfortable, especially when they’re likely to cross paths again. Especially when even a couple of minutes already has Blaine suspecting that the two of them could be fast friends, if nothing else. Especially when Blaine knows next to nothing about Kurt, aside from the fact that he’s handsome, fairly witty in response to a boring survey, and has enough patience to deal with very strong, overbearing personalities. Blaine can’t assume anything else, doesn’t know Kurt’s dreams, his aspirations, even his taste in music.

But, hell. Maybe it’s okay to throw caution to the wind.

Just go for it.

“Do you take part in the mistletoe tradition?”

Even if it's a little bit mortifying.

With a glance up at the dangling mistletoe that Blaine would prefer to read as bashful rather than uncomfortable, Kurt’s lips gradually curve into a small smile, revealing a slight dimple in his otherwise smooth cheeks.

“I’ve never taken part in it before, but I like embracing new traditions.”

The last word is offered almost as a question, but it’s enough to send Blaine’s heart leaping into his throat. Quickly sliding his pen under the clamp of the clipboard, he sets both aside on the nearest table with a slight tap, and it might be just a little too much, the careful choices that nudge this moment away from happenstance to an almost romantic gesture, but it’s also just enough. Because this isn’t about picking someone up.

It’s about leaning in far enough to notice an ever so slight difference in their heights, it’s about discovering the smoothness of another person’s complexion by brushing the pad of one’s thumb across their cheek. It’s about weaving one’s fingers smoothly into their hair, careful not to brush too much out of place. It’s about the quick inhale from Kurt that nearly distracts Blaine from the moment their lips meet, how soft Kurt’s are, a chill passing down Blaine’s spine when someone steps into the shop and the impulse he acts on, carefully reaching around Kurt’s waist, a silent request for permission.

It’s about the way Kurt melts into the kiss almost immediately, warming the both of them from the point of contact, more than any simple cup of coffee could ever manage. It’s in the grasp of Kurt’s hand against Blaine’s coat, tugging, granting Blaine access that he carefully accepts in the slight parting of lips. It’s in the reciprocation, the balance between them as Kurt lets slip a breath, closing his mouth around Blaine’s upper lip and sucking softly.

Blaine feels like he’s forgotten how to breathe, but his lungs manage anyway, warm and full as his nose presses up against the side of Kurt’s.

He’s not sure how long the kiss lasts; he only hears applause rising out of the white noise once the both of them pull back, Kurt looking as dazed as Blaine feels. They break into smiles simultaneously, both determined not to glance over at their friends just yet.

“That was…” Blaine stares, mouth agape and chest aching for how fast his heart beats.

“Our new tradition,” declares Kurt with a raise of his shoulder, flushed to the tips of his ears.

Hesitantly, Blaine reaches forward to trace a line down Kurt’s scarf with his thumb, tugging almost imperceptibly, but enough for Kurt to take a step forward.

“We should practice?” Blaine asks, hopeful.

“I thought we were.”


End file.
